My Breasts, My Cure -- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

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I Will Not Let Fear Control Me

         My breasts still sore from the core biopsies and mammogram, I remain in my car parked at the Whole Foods parking lot to rest and meditate for a while. My chest feels heavy from the fear of breast cancer, I take a few breathing exercises while saying a little prayer. Should I call my family to let them know what is going on? I decide it's too premature and might only cause unnecessary alarm; after all, the tumor might not even be cancerous.

         I retrieve my cellular phone from my purse to call my sister Viola's house. Viola works as a Medical Assistant at Monterey Memorial Hospital at night so she sleeps during the day while her husband is at work. Her two sons are probably asleep as well. Jimmy, 20, works at night, so he sleeps during the day, while John, 18, well, I don't know what he does in the evening with his friends, but he's most likely asleep as well. Jimmy gave up on college education, deciding it was too much work and he wasn't smart enough. John, whose intelligence is way above average--even genius, according to his teachers, is still trying to get a high school diploma. He says that the teachers don't challenge him enough intellectually so he skips classes all the time. Both of them should be out on their own already, but I don't dare say that to my sister. If possible, she wants them to live with her until they get married; I don't see that happening for a long time.

         The phone keeps ringing. Mom is probably in the same room with Viola, either in deep contemplation or watching Viola sleep. Even if Mom could hear the phone ring, she doesn't get up to answer it. Viola doesn't let her walk around without any assistance. She also cannot hear very well so even if she answered the phone she wouldn't be able to carry on a good conversation. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to talk to her. Just to hear her voice and let her know I am thinking of her is enough.

         Finally, on the fifth ring, the answering machine is activated. "Hi Mom," I say. "Hi Viola. Just calling to say hi. Call me on my cell when you can. Bye."

         I dial my boyfriend's office at the Denver University, which is located only a few blocks away. Peter is a research scientist for the University of Colorado Medical Center. We've been together for three years now, and I live with him part of the time in Colorado, while I maintain another residence in California. He doesn't answer the phone; instead, I get his voice mail.

         "Hello, my dear," I begin my message. "I just came out of the Women's Imaging Center. Sorry you're not there. I thought we might have lunch. So I'll see you at home. I love you." I decide not to worry him now, after all, we won't know for sure till we get the pathology report. I'll tell him what happened when we see each other tonight at home.

         I call my friend Tess to invite her for lunch. She owns a gift shop on Filmore and 2nd Avenue in Cherry Creek, just a couple of blocks away. I suddenly feel like talking to my friends to get my mind off the cancer issue. Unfortunately, the clerk tells me that she just left yesterday with her husband for Indonesia to do their annual buying of handcrafted products like basketry, haberdashery and woodcarvings.

         I dial my childhood friend in Maryland. I'm sure Beth will be home. She doesn't get out much since she's practically shackled to her wheelchair by a degenerative disease in her knees. I miss her. We haven't seen each other in two years.

         "Hey, woman!" she exclaims upon hearing my voice. "You haven't called in a long time. What's going on?"

         "Oh, nothing. I'm just using up the remaining free minutes on my cell. Thought I'd call my friends to chat. How are you? What's new?"

         "Well, Kevin is 16 now and wants to take up parasailing, thanks to you."

         "That's great."

         "I'm trying hard to discourage him, but since he saw your parasailing photos and tape and articles about you, he's been bugging Danny and me for our approval."

         "Parasailing is very safe, but I can understand your apprehension."

         "You're his hero, you know that? He wishes I were more like you. I told him I can't. I am a mother."

         There she goes again. Even if I had been a mother, I am sure I'd be just like how I am now . . .I think.

         "Are you still mountain climbing?" she asks.

         "I haven't for a while. Two years of climbing the Colorado peaks is enough."

         "Whatever happened to that hunk guy you climbed mountains with?"

         "Brad?"

         "Yeah."

         "He calls now and then. He still thinks we're meant for each other, and that we'll eventually get back together someday."

         "What do you think?"

         "I don't think so."

         "You were so hot and heavy with him for . . . three years, was it?"

         "Yes. We were passionately in love with each other. Breaking up with him was most difficult."

         "I can never understand why you broke up with him. I know it had something to do with his son moving in with you. You two did not get along?"

         "Oh, we were okay with each other. But he was a troubled kid who couldn't get over his parents' divorce, then his mom remarrying and having a baby, then another baby. He also hated his stepfather. That's why he left them."

         "You didn't like Brad's son living with you?" Beth asks.

         "No, that wasn't it. I just didn't like the way he treated his father. He was a spoiled kid. He would send his father to the store in the middle of the night just to get him a soda pop, and Brad would go. One night, the cops came knocking on our door looking for him. Someone had identified him as a suspect in a neighborhood robbery. We had to go to the police station for questioning. It turned out to be a mistaken identity, thank God. We also thought that he never missed school because his girlfriend always picked him up in the morning. We discovered later on that they were cutting class everyday doing anything but study. He would come home just before his Dad and I got home."

         "Didn't the school try to call your apartment?"

         "Yes, but Josh knew all the tricks in the book. He would come home during the day in time to erase the phone messages. And he always picked up the mail and threw away the notices from the school."

         "How did you finally find out about it?"

         "The school traced Brad's phone number at work and called him there."

         "Wow. I can see how you, who never had a child, would not be able to tolerate such behavior around you."

         It never fails. Every time I discuss any behavioral problems involving children with my friends and family, I always get this 'because you never had a child, so you'll never understand comment.' Beth's oldest son, Tony, who is 19, with a very good job with the Federal Government, still lives with them. I believe parents should let their children fly away at 18.

         "I could have tolerated Josh and all his problems, but I could not bear to see Brad lose control over his son. He didn't know how to discipline the kid and I hated that. Because I wasn't his mother, I also felt that it wasn't my place to discipline him."

         "So that's it! You couldn't discipline the boy so you left Brad?"

         "No. I left Brad because since his son moved in with us, he changed. He was no longer the strong man I thought he was, and he was no longer the romantic guy that he epitomized."

         "Aha! Now we're getting to the main issue. Sex! His son's presence affected your sex life, isn't that it?"

         "Partly, yes, but it's a lot more than that. Brad and I had the most romantic relationship. We were the envy of all our friends. And perhaps he was living in fantasy. For two years, we had no responsibilities but for ourselves. He took a voluntary termination from Johnson and Johnson and received two years of pay for it. I quit my job and cashed out my 401(K). We did nothing but have fun. Then his son came back in his life for good, and all of a sudden, it was as if he awoke from a dream. He became a full time father once again. He started behaving differently. He was no longer the same man I fell in love with."

         "Being a full-time dad that killed the romance; poor guy, he didn't have a chance. So there's really no chance at all that you'd go back to him?"

         "No. I'm quite happy with Peter. We have a lot of things in common and he disciplines his kids very well. He's neat around the house, and he cooks, too."

         "How about sex?"

         "Now, now. You know I don't feel comfortable talking about sex."

         "You're no fun. I get my vicarious thrills through you in everything else; why can't you make me completely happy and talk about your sex life? You know I seldom get it at home now-a-days since I became almost an invalid."

          "You're not an invalid. And I know you very well. Even if you were totally handicapped, you'll find ways to fulfill your sexual desires."

         "You're right there. But I'm afraid Danny doesn't find me that attractive anymore."

         "I don't believe that. You're one of the most beautiful women I know."

         "Well, you haven't seen me for a long time. You don't have any idea how unattractive and un-sexy a woman can be in a wheelchair. Enough of that; are you and Peter ever going to get married? You've been together for three years - almost as long as you were with Brad, which really surprises me. I never thought you'd stay with Peter longer than six months, given your history with men."

         "Yes, I surprised all my friends who took bets on how long this relationship would last. No one thought it would last more than a year. Needless to say, I collected free dinners out of those bets."

         "Honestly now, did you really think it would last this long?"

         I laughed a little, remembering the first time Peter and I met in person through the Mountaineers Club. I really wasn't looking for love or romance. I was new in Colorado and I was looking for people to hike the mountains and play tennis with.

         "Not really. My dear, it's getting very hot out here in the parking lot. I think I should go inside the store to cool down. Let's save the answer to that question for our next conversation, okay?"

         "Okay; but before we hang up, how's your Mom?"

         "Well, you know. She's getting up there and she's no longer as strong as she used to be. She's diabetic, which, over time has affected her kidney functions. The doctors once said that we might have to consider dialysis in the near future."

         "Oh, that's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that."

         "I hear it's painful. I hate for her to be subjected to that. I saw how she suffered when she had that double-bypass surgery four years ago. It was very painful not only for her, but for all of us."

         "She's so lucky to have you guys, though. You've all taken care of her for many years."

         "I give most of the credit to Viola. She has devoted a lot of her time taking care of her."

         Our discussion about my mother is making me miss her more. I should be going back to California and help take care of her. "It's really getting hot here. I'd better go. Plus, I see a real cute guy going in. I should check him out."

         "You're bad, and I love it. Okay. Call again soon."

         "I will"

         I go inside the grocery store. The cute guy is now sitting in the café section of the grocery store where the downtown yuppies congregate for lunch. I spend about 40 minutes shopping, spending a lot of money on organic vegetables, fruits and fresh-baked breads. I get a cup of their fresh-brewed organic coffee and a blueberry muffin and eat at the café while I read the newspaper. Minutes later, the cute guy is gone. A cuter guy has replaced him at the table with a muscle man in biker shorts.

         I drive home at about 2:00 pm to beat the rush hour traffic that has become so horrendous since the reconstruction work on I-25 started and people have been taking alternative routes. Even this early in the afternoon, traffic is already heavy on I-285 toward the mountains. I insert a CD in the player and start to relax while listening to Horowitz's piano concerto.

         I take a deep breath. "Whatever happens," I murmur to myself, "I will not let fear control my emotions."

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Next item: "My Breasts, My Cure - Chapter Three"